Baci
by con queste ali rotte
Summary: Every time Ezio was to leave, Leonardo wanted to tell him he loved him. He never did. Ezio x Leonardo, rated T for some kissing at the end. R and R, please.


**Series : Assassin's Creed**

**Characters / Pairing : Ezio Auditore x Leonardo Da Vinci**

**Rating : T**

**A/N : Another one for you, that I came up with while trying to get ready for school, l - lol. **

**I swear, I get these ideas at the weirdest and sometimes inconvenient times. **

**Anyway, it's pretty short, so you'll get through it quick. Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer : I'm not affiliated with Ubisoft, and I don't own Ezio or Leo. But I sort of wish I did. ;;**

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Every time Ezio left the workshop, his 'safe haven' for when things got rough (or for when he needed a Codex page deciphered), he was putting himself into another dangerous situation. Each time he left could very well be his last time leaving, his last time seeing his best friend. The unfading scars that tainted his olive skin were a constant reminder of that.

Every time Ezio was to leave, Leonardo wanted to tell him he loved him. He never did.

In place of that, there was a partially forced smile and a tight hug, wishes of good luck and orders to stay safe; If he needed anything, he should not hesitate to come straight to this building. Leonardo would assist him as best he could. Ezio knew this by now. Ezio had always known this, from the very first day.

Sometimes Leonardo was brave enough to ask if he would be coming back, and to that, the assassin only laughed at him and told him yes, of course; he promised as much, and he was a man of his word, wasn't he ?

A smile, a nod in agreement. Promises didn't do much good when you were up against fate and circumstance; both of which were unpredictable, and in most cases, cruel. They knew this, both Ezio and Leonardo. However, neither saw it fit to speak of such things moments before he was to go.

So it ended as it always did, in smiles and hugs, followed by heavy silence.

* * *

Venezia was a beautiful place. A city built completely on the water; sturdy, strong. Gondolas gliding underneath bridges and over the water that glistened under the sun, going from this place to that, the gondoliers singing and humming songs all the while as they went past. Looking at such a scene from the _Ponte di Rialto_ was calming, relaxing.

Leonardo found himself coming here more and more often, when he was without anything to do. Of course, he _had _commissions to do, but his mind was not in its right place, and he was not able to concentrate. Due dates seemed to become a blur, and it was as though the commissions were becoming _unimportant_ to him. Of course, he still had his love for art and for his work … He just had his mind on other things.

Other pressing, anxiety - inducing, beautiful things.

A sigh. Looking towards the sun, which was just beginning to set, he remembered a time when he'd told Ezio that he wanted to do something of more benefit to others; something like architecture or something to do with medicine. Back then, he was throwing out mere suggestions, unaware of what was to come in the near future. Now, as he thought on it, he wanted nothing more than to help _Ezio_.

Which he was, of course, but it didn't seem enough.

He silently wished he could do more, but he wasn't made for fighting - not to mention the thought of killing someone terrified him. Decoding Codex, giving the other male a place to stay … There was little else he could do besides for that.

It was almost depressing.

* * *

Two weeks have passed, and there is no sign of Ezio. This is slightly expected, because missions were quite complicated; there was tracking the target first, scouting the area, learning more information about where they usually go during the day and how many guards guard them at night. Then there was planning; figuring out when the perfect time to strike would be, how to break into a place and go unnoticed, how to get close enough to the target to be able to kill them.

And then, of course ( the artist shuddered slightly ), there was the kill itself. Then escaping, pretending to "disappear" for a while; getting guards off Ezio's trail to make them think he was gone for good when he was still lurking in the shadows, somewhere they would least expect him to be. After a few days of that, he would be free to move through the streets once more - albeit cautiously.

Assuming he hasn't died, of course. The most important part of the equation, the part that Leonardo would much rather leave out altogether.

The paintbrush shakes slightly in the usually sturdy hand of the artist, and he nods his head. Resolution.

This will be it. The next time he walks through the workshop's door, Leonardo will tell him how he feels.

He can't take it anymore.

* * *

It is two weeks longer before Ezio has returned - Leonardo has had no other choice but to keep track, considering he had been worrying about the _assassino_ each one of those days. When the assassin finally shows up, night is nearing; one final commission has been handed over to it's owner, therefore Leonardo had not been expecting anyone else.

So when there is a soft, almost inaudible knock on his door, the artist knows exactly who it is; his heart leaps as he quickly strides over to the door and opens it.

And there, standing before him, is the assassin he'd been waiting for all this time; the one he'd been fussing over even in his absence, losing sleep simply because he was worried about the other - with good reason, of course. The wound on his right shoulder that he was clutching, blood turning the pure white of his clothes a sickening red, was a perfect example of that good reason. Leonardo was obviously panic - stricken, and despite it, Ezio looked at him and gave a weak smile. "_Ehi, ciao, _Leonardo. I would be a bit more enthusiastic, _ma _…"

He didn't plan on finishing that sentence, but if he had, he wouldn't have been able to; Leonardo was already dragging him inside, hitting the door with his heel to shut it. He led Ezio to the desk and quickly cleared a space so that he could hop onto it and sit while Leonardo tended to his wounds. It was times like these that the artist suddenly turned into some sort of doctor - it left the assassin wondering just _why_ the other didn't go into that profession.

"_Dio mio,_ Ezio ! This isn't a time to kid around. Your shoulder …" He murmured, helping the other to remove the sleeve of his cloak so that he could see the damage done. It was an arrow wound, though Ezio had already pulled out the arrow - and quite messily, Leonardo thought to himself as he hurried over to the draw that held the gauze and bandages. "How did this happen ?"

"A … miscalculation." The reluctant reply was enough to let Leonardo know he was both irritated and embarrassed with himself for making such a mistake; even with his back turned, he could imagine the other's facial expression, one of disgust. "I thought I'd gotten rid of all the rooftop guards; apparently, I was wrong."

"… I see." Leonardo frowned as he returned to the 'patient' sitting on the table, placing all the materials he'd grabbed beside Ezio. Dipping a piece of gauze in something similar to an antiseptic and then putting the gauze to the wound, the artist winced when he heard the hiss of dissatisfaction come from the other's lips. "_Mi dispiace._"

"_Non preoccuparti_. It's not as though you're hurting me intentionally." Leonardo moved quickly on to dress the wound, so as to not keep it open and exposed to all the dust and dirt flying around. The last thing Ezio needed was an infection. "Besides, I believe I am the one who should be apologizing to you."

"To me ?" Skilled hands stop wrapping bandages, blue eyes turn to look at the side of the other's face. "For what?"

"For these constant interruptions. It seems as though I am always interrupting you with these injuries. You have other things to attend to, _amico_, I'm sure -"

A pale finger presses against the scarred lips softly, stopping the assassin mid - sentence, as well as leaving him sorely confused.

"_Basta_. You know you are always welcome here, Ezio. And you should also know that your safety is of utmost importance to me. I would rather treat your wounds than have you wandering around injured." The hand that had pressed a finger to the assassin's lips moved to the side of his face, turning his head so they were looking directly at each other. Ezio looks surprised, but he doesn't lean back, he doesn't pull away.

Which was a good thing indeed for Leonardo.

"Even so, Leonardo." The assassin starts again, his voice steady with conviction. "I should not be making these foolish mistakes to begin with. While the wounds are well - dressed thanks to you, they only slow me down -

"I would rather you be injured than be _dead_, Ezio."

Both men look at each other, the weight of the last sentence keeping them quiet. Leonardo hadn't _intended_ to say it; it had just slipped out without another moment of thought. Even so, it was the truth; the thought of the assassin ever dying scared him, terrified him to the point that he would lose sleep over the possibility. It was the reason he so anxiously awaited the man's return every time he went away for long periods of time - and the reason he thanked God when Ezio returned with only a wound, as opposed to hearing the heralds proclaim his death to the streets of Venezia.

The silence was deafening. There was stillness, stiffness, between the two males, neither one about to make a move. It was as though each was waiting to see if the other would do something, say something else. Blue eyes staring into brown and vice versa, they didn't dare to look away from each other, as though they would miss something if they did.

"Leonardo."

Nothing would get done this way. A small breath is taken in and held; the artist leans in, and soft, smooth lips find their way to the scarred lips that belonged to the younger male. There is a sudden stiffness in the other's body as the pairs of lips touch, and for a second, Leonardo is scared, hesitant; by making this simple move, this simple gesture that would probably last no more than a minute, he could very well ruin everything he had with the assassin up until now. Their friendship, which had come so far over these past years, could crumble and become nothing, and all because of a _kiss._

And he would have continued to feel this way, were it not for the sudden feeling of the assassin kissing him back.

Fingers tangle themselves into shoulder - length hair, hands caress cheeks and urge the other body to come closer, remove the space between them. The situation that brought them to this point was forgotten, lost in the sudden moment of bliss and feelings that were hidden for so long. However, the kiss seemed to end just as quickly as it started; before Leonardo knew it, their lips were apart and both were trying to find air, trying to _breathe_, though they were still tangled up in each other. Ezio's good hand in Leonardo's hair, Leonardo's hands on either side of Ezio's face.

Leonardo is the first to speak, the words coming to him easier than he had ever imagined they would come. "_Ti amo_, Ezio."

"_Ti amo anche_, Leonardo," Was the response.

The words made something stir inside the artist, a cross between happiness and relief; he pressed another kiss to the assassin's lips, wanting _more - _

And that was about the time he'd realized that he hadn't finished tending to Ezio's wound.

A blush bright as the stains on Ezio's clothing spread across Leonardo's face, and he chuckled slightly, moving himself away from the assassin as he prepared to dress the wound once more. "I suppose … I should get this done, _si _? I've already made you sit for so long with your wounds half - attended to."

"Quite alright, _tesoro._" Scarred lips lightly brush against the artist's temple. "I'm in no rush."

Leonardo could only smile to himself, skilled hands wrapping and re - wrapping bandages across the tainted, slightly bloodied skin.

And for that moment, all the fears he had of death and tragedy were replaced by an undying sense of bliss.


End file.
